The Last Lavellan
by Starlilica
Summary: During the War Table missions, it is possible for Clan Lavellan to be utterly destroyed, yet no one in the game mentions it. This is meant to rectify that. One shot with some light f!Lavellan x Solas fluff.


She was getting better at horseback riding. Really, it wasn't too different than riding a halla… well, mostly. Bigger and less graceful, though still entirely intoxicating to gallop. Her mount's hooves echoed against the stone bridge of Skyhold as she urged it forward, to home. Behind her rode Cassandra, Solas and Dorian on their own mounts. They were sure to be just as tired as she was and eager for Skyhold.

It was odd but not entirely noteworthy when she found Cullen, Leliana and Josephine waiting for her as the reinforced gates opened. An Inquisition solider grabbed her horse's bridle for her to dismount, and she jumped off with a cat-got-the-cream grin.

"Done and done," she announced to her advisers, but they only shifted uncomfortably. Her grin faded. "What?"

"Perhaps we should speak privately," Josephine said softly, and Sansa's blood ran cold. She barely registered the sound of her companions dismounting behind her.

"What?" she asked again, an edge to her voice. Cullen was holding a thin piece of parchment in his hand.

"Inquisitor, we should really —"

She snatched it from his hand before he could finish, smoothing out the paper to read.

Her heart stopped. The air was sucked from her lungs. Words blurred together, and all she could see was "… utterly destroyed…"

Gone. Her clan gone. Father and Mother, little brothers, her friends and cousins, her mentor Keeper Deshana —

Her instincts flared, the urge to flee running through her body. She reached again for her horse, hoping lightly on his back and spurring him around.

"Inquisitor —!"

"Sansa —!"

"Vhenan —!"

They all cried out for her at the same time as she fled, the burning pain and rage constricting her heart, drowning it out. The horse ran: she could hardly tell where, only that she went from cold stone to cold snow in a blink.

"We must go after her!" Cassandra began, remounting.

"Cassandra, wait," Leliana interjected, taking the Seeker's mount by the bridle.

"That note was from Wycome. Her clan is dead." Cullen's voice was flat and heavy.

At once Solas felt his heart being squeezed with worry and empathy. No wonder she took off in a mad panic.

"We should let her grieve," Josephine said softly.

"Out there? Alone? What if Corypheus or his agents find her?" Cassandra snapped. "She is the head of the Inquisition. She should not behave like this, whatever happens."

"Seeker, have some compassion." Solas came to the other side of Cassandra's mount and looked up at her, his words stern. "She just learned that her entire family is dead. She is more than capable of caring for herself. She has her bow and her wits: she would not fall so easily, even racked with grief."

"But what if she is trying to go to Wycome?" Dorian proposed. "Find some scrap of her clan, however small."

"She would not be so foolish," Solas replied with confidence. A pause. "But I will go retriever her after a suitable amount of time. Does this satisfy you, Seeker?"

Cassandra sighed. "I suppose so." She dismounted, and a solider led her mount away. "Though I am worried for her."

"As are we all, Lady Cassandra," Josephine replied gently. "But interjecting ourselves now could make things worse. Likely she blames herself for this."

Solas took a deep breath, looking out where Sansa had fled through the gates of Skyhold.

_Ir abelas, ma vhenan_. He had no love for the Dalish, but he understood the pain that seized her. He wished it on no one.

* * *

She had slowed her horse to a trot after a good gallop; despite her pain that was almost physical, she knew that too fast a pace would kill her friend. She focused on staying on him, and it helped to be distracted a little. Still, hot tears flowed freely down her cheeks, leaving the freezing air to sting the trail left behind.

Her brothers had been no more than young children. Vesh had been just thirteen, a happy boy training to be a hunter like his big sister. Junan was a fragile boy; Keeper Deshana in her last letter had said that he was finally discovered to be a mage, to the clan's delight, though he had been born early and was never expected to thrive as a babe.

Her father had been a simple man: a good leader, but no more interested in things outside the clan than a bear is with things outside his forest. He had trained her to be the hunter she was today. He would have died defending his family… and he did.

Pain seared through Sansa again, and she let out a primal scream. Only the mountains answered her.

Gone, gone, they were all gone, and she was not there to protect her clan. She had sworn to when she had become an adult and received her vallaslin. And when they needed her the most, she was not there. She should have died with them. Pitiful, long sobs racked her body.

With no one to guide it, her horse stopped and stood, woofing out tired breaths of white. The sun was beginning to dip low, and the air was getting colder. Even through her grief, she knew she had to either go back and face everyone or make camp.

Sansa chose the latter. She was not ready yet to see the faces of her friends, full of concern, of the desire to help, when all she wanted was to shut herself in her grief.

The motions came surprisingly easy, likely from a lifetime of making and breaking campsites as a Dalish. A wind was picking up but a quick fire helped keep the chill to a tolerable level. She left the bridle on the horse but removed the saddle, hobbling and blanketing him. Soothing words of elvish helped to calm her nervous horse, and he accepted an apple from her pack with an air of wounded pride. Her tent was warmer, with her bedroll, and she curled up in it. The light was dying over the mountains and a brittle cold had settled it.

Just for the night, she figured. She would have the strength to face them all in the morning. If she could sleep, that was.

* * *

Cole had been jittery and nervous, and it was all Solas could do to calm him down before he left.

"She hurts!" was about all anyone could make of his words. It worried him to see Cole this way, as it was a reflection of Sansa's own pain.

"It's going to be okay, kid," Varric tried to say soothingly, "Solas is going to go find her and bring her back."

"That won't stop her pain!" Cole was pacing back and forth, blue eyes wide. "My fault, my fault, I should have been there, I should have died with them, breaking and bleeding and beaten but not broken, brothers dead, mother dead, father dead, all dead and gone — !"

"Kid, come on! Calm down!" Varric grabbed his hand but Cole yanked it back.

"No! I —"

"Cole." Solas's tone was firm enough to stop Cole in his tracks, though it was obvious the spirit-made-flesh was still uncomfortable. "I will go now. I know that this is hard for you to understand, but your reaction will not help her when she arrives back to Skyhold. You must be calm."

"But… she hurts…" Cole said almost pitifully. "A fresh hurt like a wound from a knife, bleeding brightly against the snow."

"Yes, but you cannot heal this so easily, Cole," Solas answered gently.

"We'll find a way, kid," Varric prompted. "We can put our heads together while Chuckles is gone and find something to cheer her up."

"Put our heads together? That won't help Sansa! That would only hurt us!"

Varric sighed.

* * *

Sansa hadn't felt like eating anything, so she did not hunt. Her mind was filled with grusome images that nothing could shake away. Seeing more blood right now, even a hare's blood, was not something she was equipped to handle at the moment.

Butchered. By humans. So far away from her. She was supposed to protect them. Keeper Deshana and her father both had been grooming her for a leadership role. When the Keeper had sent her to spy on the Conclave, it was to be a test. And then the explosion, leaving her hand marked… Sansa could not walk away from that. It had endangered everyone, regardless of origin.

And they hadn't wanted her to walk away from that. She knew that. Yet the weight of it settled squarely on her breastbone until she could hardly breathe. She would have given nearly anything to see them again.

She kept the fire going; her only company in her lonely vigil aside from her horse. It had been hours before he nickered and stirred outside her tent. Someone was coming. Her hand darted to her dagger and curled around it, ready.

"Vhenan."

It was Solas, and Sansa let go of her weapon, crawling out to stand before the other elf. She said nothing, slowly lifting her eyes to meet his cool grey ones.

"I am so sorry," he whispered softly, but made no move. He was waiting for her to move first, to see where her comfort lay.

But she was in his arms within a heart beat. No tears came, but she shivered against him. Tenderly, he stroked her hair, standing still as long as she needed him to.

"Vhenan, you must come back to Skyhold," he murmured. She said nothing in return. He pulled away and took her hands in his, rubbing them to warm them.

"You must," he continued softly. "I understand your pain and grief, but you must come back. You must stop the Breach. You know this."

Not looking at him, she nodded slowly. "I do."

He pulled her back into his arms, and she relaxed a little. "When will it stop hurting?" she whispered against him.

"Time heals many hurts, but they often remain hurts," he answered just as softly. "You must endure now, my heart."

They rode double back to Skyhold, his arms around her reassuringly. She would endure: endure the faces and pitying looks, endure the loneliness and the grief. She was wholly the Inquisition's now: she had nothing to return to. She would throw herself into the role for all the peoples of Thedas, though the Dalish would always have a special place in her heart.

Many had gathered to see her return, and fresh wave of pain washed over her. Nonetheless, she steeled herself for it.

Cullen, Josephine and Leliana waited, as well as Cassandra, Varric, Dorian and Cole.

Varric spoke first. "Nice to have you back, Inquisitor." A peace offering: an avoidance of her pain, but still reassuring her at the same time.

She gave him a tight smile in return. "It got cold."

"Well, we have a hot supper waiting for you, Inquisitor," Josephine said. "If you like. Or hot tea, if not."

Solas dismounted first and offered a hand to her.

It was then that it hit her. She looked around at all the faces before her. This was her clan now. It would never replace her old one, but these good people were enough to fight for. Everyone in the Skyhold courtyard was watching her with interest. Though Vivienne and Sera were not present, she could make out Blackwall watching from a distance as well, and Bull and the Chargers milling over by the tavern.

They respected her, maybe even called her a friend. And she glanced down at Solas at her side. He had walked the snow capped mountains to bring her back. Swinging a leg over her horse, she took his hand and slid down. Grief still squeezed her heart, but she could endure it.

"Tea would be divine, Josephine," she answered in a small voice.

* * *

_Deshana Istimaethoriel Lavellan — Clan Lavellan Keeper's full name per __the DA Wiki__._

_Ir abelas, ma vhenan — (eer-ah-be-las ma ve-nan): "I am filled with sorrow for your loss, my heart." Copied straight from__the DA Wiki__._

_Originally posted on my Solas x Lavellan tumblr: .com_


End file.
